Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway
by Cyclone
Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.
1. Prologue

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (0/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

"I think that's the last of it," Xander said as he gently lowered the boxes suspended by his ring into the room next to the others. Now that Rebecca was back on her feet, the Baxters were moving out and into their own place. Rebecca hadn't been comfortable essentially leeching off of him, no matter what he said about it, and their discussion on the matter led them to The Magic Box.

Buying up the lease had been a simple matter, but the business license had been a bit trickier. With that squared away, though, the two Baxter women were moving into the apartment over the store rather than waiting for the repairs to be completed on the first house he had acquired for them.

"You sure you'll be okay?" he asked.

"We'll be fine," Rebecca assured him.

* * *

Xander was pacing the library irritably. It was after dark, and he, Giles, and Cortana were considering their next move.

"I don't get it," he said. "Where is she?"

"Who?" Giles asked, having let Xander work the energy out of his system.

"Gwendolyn Post," Xander answered. "She should have shown up by now, looking for the Glove of Myhnegon."

"We destroyed it weeks ago," Giles pointed out, "at your direction, I might add."

"Yeah," Xander nodded, "but she couldn't know that, and I can't believe she'd just give up on it."

Giles mulled over that. The boy had a point. "Perhaps she hasn't," he suggested.

"Huh?" Xander stopped pacing and looked over at the Watcher.

"That's the thing about gloves, Xander. They come in pairs."

Xander stared at Giles, utterly dumbfounded.

"Well, worrying isn't going to help anything," Cortana piped up from one of the library's computers, "and we have contingency plans in place anyway. You've already diverted most of the major events for the next few weeks, so why not use that time productively?"

"What do you mean?" Xander asked curiously.

"The files I gave you a week ago?" she prompted, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "People you'd need to recruit personally. Ring any bells?"

"Oh," he said. "I, ah, actually hadn't gotten around to reading them yet."

"Well, read them," she snapped. "They're in San Francisco, and we could really use their skills."

"You want me to leave town again?" Xander said. "C'mon, Cortana, I'm still in the doghouse from my trip to Japan."

"You could take the girls with you," she pointed out.

"Then who would watch the hellmouth?"

"I think it can survive a night or two without your attention."

The two humans looked at each other, then looked back at the computer Cortana was projecting herself through incredulously.

"Great," Xander said. "Now you're taunting Murphy."

"We're doomed," Giles agreed, nodding solemnly.

* * *

"Michael," the synthesized voice emerged from the walls of the San Francisco beach house, "something's happened."

The retired crusader sunning himself and reading by the pool glanced back at the house. "What is it, KITT?"

"I happened to be monitoring several government databases when someone hacked in and altered them. A full identity creation."

Michael Knight sighed and tried to concentrate on his book. "I'm retired, KITT. I'm too old to go chasing bad guys now."

"Michael," KITT continued insistently, "this level of sophistication is far superior to what is publicly available. Were it not for my own computing capability and sheer happenstance, I would not have detected it."

"KITT, if you're really that worried, forward it to the FBI. Let them handle it."

"Perhaps I wasn't making myself clear, Michael. Whoever is behind this has capabilities on par with Knight Industries' best, including classified and confidential technology such as myself and other AI research. If not better."

Michael sat up and twisted in his beach chair. "You're **kidding**."

"No, I am not. And it's worse than that, Michael," KITT continued, almost sounding ashamed. "I was tracing this information when the perpetrator detected me."

"**What? !**" Michael shot to his feet.

"Michael, allow me to introduce you to Cortana."

"Hello there."

* * *

"Cortana, what's this?" Xander asked calmly, standing in the front door of the estate Cortana had procured for him. He was spending a lot more time here since Joyce had withdrawn her request to be his foster parent. He didn't blame her, not after how she learned the secrets they'd been keeping from her; Xander had pushed Buffy for full disclosure, but the costume thing had just been too much for either Summers woman. Even if it had been Willow's idea. Aside from classes, Alexander Harris no longer really existed, fading into obscurity; certainly, his home life had been swept under the rug with SPD's usual efficiency.

"It's a car," she answered primly. "Specifically, the eighty-eight Pontiac Banshee concept car, updated with a few... improvements."

"I **know** that," he said irritably. "Well, that it's a car, that is. I mean, why is it in my driveway?"

"I had it delivered. You'll need some form of mundane transportation, as the ring isn't always practical," she reasoned. "You're a young male, statistically handsome, and often accompanied by attractive young women of your age group. Research indicates a rare sports car like this would be appropriate."

"Uh huh," Xander muttered. "One last question: Why red?"

"Would you have preferred black?"

"...maybe," Xander hedged. He had to admit. The red looked **good**.

"It could be arranged. Why don't you take it out for a spin?" she suggested. "Maybe a trip up the coast?"

Xander scowled. "You're really not gonna stop bugging me, are you?"

"Certainly not," she answered with a haughty sniff. "This is important."

He sighed and threw his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine."

* * *

"Whoa."

"Whose car is **that?**"

"Wicked ride."

It was Friday afternoon, and the cherry red sports car that was attracting such attention was cruising along in front of the school until it pulled up next to Buffy, Willow, Tara, and Faith, one of the oddest cliques in the school: Hot, yet ostracized, outside the usual pecking order, with little visibly in common between them except the young man driving the car in question.

From across the school yard, Harmony's jaw dropped as she recognized the driver. "**Harris? !**" she sputtered.

Next to Harmony, Cordelia rolled her eyes, shook her head, and continued on her way. This wasn't worth her attention.

"Hey, girls," Xander said.

"Xander," Willow squealed, "what are you doing?"

"Road trip!" he declared with a forced grin. "Heading up to San Fran. Anyone wanna come with?"

"Well," Faith started with a genuine grin, "you know I'm-"

"Except you, Faith," Xander interrupted.

"What?" she squawked. "Why?"

"I want at least one Lantern on the hellmouth in case things go wrong," he said, "and Ms. Baxter's got some relatives up in San Fran she wants Tara to get in touch with."

"No fair!" Faith pouted.

"Sorry, Faith," Xander said. "Your face is just all wrong for pouting. Well, pouting in a make-me-feel-like-a-big-meanie way, anyway."

Faith scowled.

* * *

The thirteen-year-old boy watched the bus drive away and shook his head, turning to walk the final stretch to the house where he slept. Not his home. It wasn't home. Nowhere was home anymore. This whole "normal" thing was such a drag, but his mother was right. She may have been a wanted terrorist, but he was, at worst, facing juvie, and he even managed to get off with just probation. His new foster parents were pretty strict, but...

He froze in the yard. The door was ajar. They **never** left the door open. Suddenly hyper-alert, he began backing away, looking around suspiciously. _It can't be,_ he thought, dread filling him. _We stopped it! This can't be happening again!_

He spotted movement in a window and bolted. He saw two armed men burst out after him: tall, broad-shouldered, muscular... identical.

_Well,_ he thought bitterly as he ran across the street, _it could be worse._ Last time, it **had** been worse.

Just as he crossed the street, a car squealed to a halt between him and his pursuers. The door swung open, and the very familiar driver extended a hand.

"Come with me if you want to live."

John Connor got in the car.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

At this point, at least some of what's going to happen should be fairly obvious...

I'd also like to apologize in advance. This story is not my best work - things just don't seem to be clicking right - but there are some plot points in it that are integral to later events in the Emerald Flame universe.


	2. Chapter 1

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (1/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

"What does this button do?"

Smack!

"Ow!" Willow glared at Xander, rubbing her wrist.

"Willow," he said calmly, not taking his eyes off the road, "this is not Dexter's Laboratory, and you are not Dee Dee, so please, kindly refrain from pushing buttons when you don't know what they do."

"So what **does** that button do?"

"I don't know, Will," Xander answered. "Cortana hasn't given me a full brief yet. For all I know, it could be the passenger ejection seat. Or a coffee maker."

Willow pouted. "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing you, Will. I really **don't** know, and I'd rather not find out we have, say, a self-destruct button by trial and error."

In the back seat, Tara rolled her eyes, and Buffy giggled, for a moment forgetting the insult about her height that sitting in the back seat implied. Neither wanted to sit in the back seat - it was a two-door sports car, after all, so it was a bit cramped back there - but neither had been willing to fight Willow over it... at least, not after the glare and growl she shot at both of them when the subject came up.

"So, Tara," Xander said as they approached San Francisco, "where do these cousins of yours live, anyway?"

"Umm..." She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and read off, "Thirteen Twenty-Nine Prescott Street."

Xander nodded. "Thirteen Twenty-Nine..." he trailed off as he pulled off the freeway. He took a brief moment to smack his forehead. "Oh, **hell**, no."

"Wh-what?" Tara asked, half-offended.

He shook his head. "Your cousins are the Charmed Ones." He sighed and muttered, "I wonder why this didn't come up last time."

"Th-th-the Charmed Ones?" she squeaked, eyes wide.

"You didn't know?" he blurted out. "...of course, you didn't, never mind." He shook his head again, muttering irritably, "Oh yeah. There is no way this is going to be a boring visit. There is no way this is going to be a simple family reunion. Apocalypse season just came early this year."

"Quit being so melodramatic," Buffy said, reaching over and gently smacking the back of his head.

"Buffy," Xander said, his voice strained, "Thirteen Twenty-Nine Prescott Street is the address of Halliwell Manor, home of the Charmed Ones."

"So?"

"**So**, the Charmed Ones are the most powerful witches in history. They've got all sorts of demons and warlocks interested in stealing their power, not to mention, you know that whole destiny thing you've got looming over you? They have it in spades. You have to worry about prophecies about the Slayer; they have prophecies about them **specifically**."

"Oh," Buffy said quietly, sinking back into her seat thoughtfully.

"Plus, they live on a nexus, which is like a hellmouth, only friendlier."

"No fair!" Buffy squawked.

"You don't **live** on the hellmouth, Buff," Xander reminded her. "You just go to school there. I mean, it's literally right under their house."

"...oh. Wow, that does suck."

"Mm-hmm," Xander nodded, a little distracted as he took in the sights.

"You okay, Xander?" Willow asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Xander answered. "It's just..."

"What?"

"Well, San Fran really reminds me of Coast City."

Willow banged her head against the dashboard.

* * *

John Connor's newest protector led him into a modest-sized house, weapon at the ready as he swept the building. John noted that he seemed to move... differently... from "Uncle Bob," despite looking and sounding virtually identical. Finding the house clear, the big man tucked his pistol away and turned to John.

"My name is Christopher Chance," he said. "Your mother hired me to protect you."

John blinked as he processed that. "No way," he blurted out. "You mean you're **not** another Terminator?"

Chance looked at him curiously. "Another what?"

"Forget it," John said, waving it off. "So who were those goons, anyway?"

"Mercenaries," Chance answered. "The Gruenshtahler twins. They're working for someone who thinks you and your mother have something they want."

"Oh, God," John threw his hands up and started pacing. "What now?"

"I don't know," Chance admitted, "but these are the sort of people who will not stop - ever - until they have what they want. Or we make them stop."

John paused as a thought occurred to him. "Cyberdyne," he said. "They probably think we stole something from Cyberdyne." He laughed bitterly and little hysterically. "Great. They'll be after us forever. We blew it all up! And what we didn't blow up, we melted down!"

"They obviously think otherwise."

John slumped down into an easy chair, his head hanging low. "So," he said quietly, "where's my mom?" He added, his voice starting to break, "Don't get me wrong, if she trusts you, that means a **lot**, but she'd be here if she had a choice, so where is she? !"

"I don't know."

"Well, you don't know a whole hell of a lot, do you?"

"She said that it would be better if I didn't know," Chance clarified. "'What you do not know, you cannot reveal.'" He paused and added, "And what I do know is that there are some very deadly and ruthless mercenaries after you."

"So what?" John waved it off. "I've had 'people' trying to kill me since before I was born."

"They aren't trying to **kill** you, John," Chance pointed out. "They're trying to capture you. Alive. And if they do, they'll **keep** you alive. For days, weeks, even months. They'll starve you, torture you, drug you, until you or your mother give them what they want."

John sat back, suddenly subdued, his face growing pale.

* * *

"Phoebe, get the door!" Piper Halliwell called.

"Why me?" the youngest sister called back.

"Because Prue's still cleaning off that gunk that demon got on her, and I'm up to my elbows in potion ingredients, that's why!"

"Well, I've still got to clean up my essay!" Phoebe retorted. "Did you **see** what that demon did to it?"

Piper growled, finished up what she was doing, and washed up. She stepped out into the foyer just as Prue emerged from the laundry room and Phoebe came down the stairs. The three sisters glared at each other for a moment before turning to door as the doorbell chimed again.

Phoebe yanked the door open.

"Hi!" the young man leading the group outside said cheerfully. He nodded at each of the sisters in turn. "Piper, Phoebe, you're looking well. And you must be Prue." He bowed and took Prue's hand, kissing it. "Just as lovely as your sisters."

The young women behind him ranged from gagging dramatically to rolling their eyes.

After a long pause, he seemed to notice the suspicious glares the Halliwells were giving him. "Ah, is this a bad time?"

Piper growled, which seemed to be some sort of cue to the annoying young man, who **immediately** threw himself to the side, even before her hands moved to freeze him. Instead, she ended up freezing the shorter blonde standing behind him in mid-gag.

"What are you, crazy?" he hissed quietly. "Using magic in public? !"

Whap!

The taller blonde smacked the back of his head and scolded, "Then stop provoking them, Xander."

"'Provoking'?" he jerked away from her in apparent outrage. "There was no provocation here! I just said hello!"

Whap!

"With you, that's generally the start of provocation," the redhead snorted after having smacked the back of his head from the other side.

The taller blonde nodded and turned to Piper. "C-can you undo whatever you did to Buffy, please? I think we started off on the wrong foot here."

The young man crossed his arms, hunched his shoulders, and scuffed his shoe petulantly. "And this is why chivalry's dead," he muttered.

Phoebe couldn't help it. She giggled.

* * *

"So, how do you know us?" Piper asked pointedly.

"It's complicated," Xander replied from where he was draped across the end of the couch.

Piper growled.

He sighed and elaborated, "Well... you know those premonitions Phoebe gets...?"

Phoebe gasped and sat up. "You get them too? !" Piper growled at her even as Prue rolled her eyes.

Xander shook his head. "Not quite." He pointed at Buffy and said, "The Buffster there gets most of the visions in our group, but I kinda had a very detailed one-time deal happen last year."

Phoebe looked at Buffy, who scowled at Xander. "Gee, thanks, Xander," she deadpanned. "Why not tell them my life story, huh?"

He shrugged. "I told you before, Buff. They're the Charmed Ones. The whole Chosen One thing isn't exactly new to them. Ladies, that's Buffy. The Vampire Slayer."

"'Vampires'?" Prue repeated. "Vampires aren't real."

"Says the demon-hunting witch," Buffy retorted.

"'Into every generation, a Slayer is born,'" Xander recited, "'one girl in all the world, a Chosen One. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.'" He paused, then added, "It really sounds better with a British accent."

"You did say it with a British accent," Phoebe said.

He blinked. "I did?"

"A very **bad** British accent," she amended.

"You **were** kinda channeling Giles a bit there," Willow said helpfully.

"So, did you have a vision about us?" Phoebe asked Buffy. "Is that why you're here?"

"No," the Slayer shook her head. "We're here because Tara wants to visit her cousins while we're in town."

Tara shrank back and hid behind the nearest convenient cover - Willow - as the Charmed Ones erupted into questions.

"Subtle, Buff," Xander said with a sigh. "Real subtle."

* * *

"Three rooms, please," Xander said, extending his credit card.

Buffy plucked the card out of his hand and corrected, "Two rooms, two beds each."

"Buffy?" Xander looked at her quizzically.

"Why waste money?" she pointed out.

"But..."

"Relax," she said. "I trust you."

"Wait," Willow protested. "Who said you'd sleep with him?" She paused and blushed. "Err, I mean... you know what I mean."

"Because I'm the only one here not interested in jumping his bones?" Buffy deadpanned. "And technically, you could say I'm his sister."

"Suuure," Willow said skeptically. Buffy blushed at the implied accusation.

"**Besides**," Buffy added, her voice low, "he's probably going on patrol later, right?"

"Good point," Xander admitted. "I figure we hit the clubs after dinner?"

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"So, how does this spell work again?" Phoebe asked.

"We'll show up as pure red," Piper said, "and it'll shift more to the blue end for people more distantly related."

"And **why** are we doing this?"

"Because," Prue answered, "as charming and cute as that guy is, we don't know that they're telling the truth."

"So you **do** think he's cute," Phoebe teased.

Prue rolled her eyes. "He's jailbait, Phoebe. I'm almost twice his age."

"His **physical** age," Phoebe pointed out lasciviously. "Memories of the future, remember? He's got youth **and** experience all in one package."

Their guests had headed out to find a hotel for the night, giving the Charmed Ones the privacy they needed to verify their identities. As they cast the spell, the city map became awash in a sea of blue dots.

"There," Phoebe said, pointing at an orange dot. "That must be Tara. That's the hotel they said they'd be staying at."

"Then who's that red dot?" Prue asked, pointing elsewhere on the map.

The three sisters exchanged looks.

* * *

"So, you got a name?" the brunette asked her new drinking partner.

"Alexander Beacon," he answered. "But my friends call me Xander. You?"

"Paige. Paige Matthews."

* * *

"wELL, DAMN."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

You had to see this coming. Well, okay, probably not Christopher Chance, but the rest of it was pretty obvious, I think.


	3. Chapter 2

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (2/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

"What are we waiting for?" Willow asked as the quartet sat in the hotel lobby.

"You'll see," Xander said. His eyes lit up as a 1967 black Chevrolet Impala smoothly pulled up to the curb, a nondescript white Dodge Neon trailing behind it. He got up and greeted the driver, shaking his hand and signing some paperwork.

He turned as the girls joined him outside. The driver joined his colleague in the Neon and left. Xander held up the Impala's keys and held them out to Tara.

"Here," he said. "I'm actually here on business, so you three will need some transportation of your own, so I called up and got this rental."

Willow scowled, and Buffy squawked, "Hey, how come she gets to drive? !"

"Because she's the one with an actual learner's permit?" Xander suggested. "Plus, remember the last time we went to the mall, Buffy? That driving game you played?"

Buffy blushed, remembering how her face now decorated the wall of the arcade with the "Worst Driver" award. "It was rigged, I tell you. Rigged!"

"C'mon," he said, "let's go. I want to say hi to the sisters before I head out."

* * *

When they entered Halliwell Manor, they could feel tension in the air.

"Okay, what's going on?" Xander asked bluntly.

"We... did a spell," Phoebe said.

Xander ruthlessly shoved down the innuendo that phrase had come to take on back in the last timeline. "So?"

"It was to pinpoint our relatives in the city," Piper said. "And it found you, Tara. And someone else."

"Who?" Tara asked with a frown.

"We don't know," Prue answered. "But according to the spell, we have a brother or another sister out there."

"Half-sister," Xander clarified automatically.

"And how would **you** know?" Piper growled.

"It's... complicated."

Piper's eyes narrowed. "I'm beginning to hate those words."

"I actually kinda ran into her last night," Xander said with a shrug.

"So **that's** who that brunette you were chatting up last night was!" Buffy blurted out.

Xander winced.

"What?" Willow sputtered. Tara glared.

"Yeah," Buffy said. "He was macking on some new girl while you two were waiting at the hotel." She grinned. "I can't wait to tell Faith!"

"It wasn't like that!" he protested. "We just had a few drinks together!"

"Uh huh," Piper said, nodding skeptically. "You had a few drinks and **then** what, Mister 'It's Complicated'?"

"Then nothing," he insisted. "We had a few drinks, chatted a little, then I spotted a vampire and excused myself, and we went our separate ways."

"What were you doing drinking, Mister?" Willow scolded. "You're not twenty one yet!"

"Alexander **Harris** isn't," Xander said, flashing her his driver's license, "but Alexander **Beacon** most certainly is."

"You... you... you have a fake driver's license? !" she shrieked

"This license is **not** fake," Xander said, tucking his wallet away. "It's as genuine as it gets, issued by the California DMV."

Silence reigned for several seconds.

Buffy spoke up, "So... do you think...?"

Xander's response was rather sedate. Willow's and Tara's were... less so. "No!"

After a moment to regain his composure, Xander said, "All right, so I'll be seeing all of you later."

"And just where do you think you're going?" Piper scowled, arms crossed. Tara stood next to her in an identical posture.

"Business," he said with a shrug.

"Just what kind of business?" Buffy asked, stepping up on Piper's other side and mimicking their posture.

He rolled his eyes. "**Business** business," he answered. "Beacon Advanced Industries has a few openings that need to be filled. I swear, I'm not hunting any vampires, demons, or any other dangerous critter, supernatural, extra-terrestrial, or otherwise. Fair?"

Buffy pursed her lips and shrugged. "Okay. See ya." Tara and Piper sighed in resignation and relented.

Satisfied that he had defused that situation, he headed for the door. He paused in the doorway and turned. "By the way, when the demons or whatever show up, **call me**."

"What makes you so sure something's going to happen?" Buffy asked.

"Come on, Buff," he said with a snort. "We go to school on the hellmouth; we're standing on a nexus; you're the Slayer, they're the Charmed Ones, both **reeking** with destiny with a capital D; and Cortana taunted Murphy before we left. Of **course** something's going to happen."

He left and closed the door behind him.

Willow sighed. "You know, he's probably right."

* * *

There were times John Connor appreciated just how paranoid his mother was. Apparently, Christopher Chance was just as paranoid, as evidenced by the kevlar-lined couch they were currently crouched behind.

"Here," Chance said, shoving a set of car keys in his hand. "There's a truck out back, in the boathouse. There's a loaded AR-15 in the cab. I'll cover you." It wasn't something he'd normally trust to a thirteen-year-old, but his research had made it abundantly clear the kid could handle a weapon.

"An AR-15?" John stared. "You don't have anything heavier?"

Chance stared back at him incredulously.

"Never mind." John shook his head. He'd forgotten. Those weren't Terminators they were up against.

"On three," Chance said. "One... two... three!" He stood up and opened fire with the twelve-gauge Remington he was holding. The Gruenshtahler twins in the front door ducked out of the way, and John bolted out the back door.

The twins returned fire, but the 9mm rounds thudded (mostly) harmlessly into his kevlar vest. He grunted with each hit but kept moving sideways toward the kitchen, where the side entrance was. The safehouse wasn't meant to be easily defended; it had been chosen for its multiple exits, which allowed for easier escapes.

He heard the truck rev up just as he got to the side entrance. The twins had split up, one coming through the house in direct pursuit while the other went around the house. Chance turned, letting the empty shotgun hang from its tactical sling, and drew his pistol. The Glock barely moved from the recoil as he fired back. He heard the AR-15 being fired with surprising professionalism behind him as he kept backing away from the house and toward the truck.

Finally, he climbed into the driver's seat as John slid over to the passenger seat. He stomped the gas. He noted with approval that John had not only kept suppression fire on the other twin, but he had also had the foresight to shoot out the two of their SUV's tires that he had had a clear angle on.

As Chance peeled out of the neighborhood, John asked, "So, where are we going now? Another safehouse?"

"No," Chance shook his head. "If they found us here, they'll find us at my other safehouses. We're going to visit an old friend of mine."

"Can you trust him?"

"He saved my life."

John considered that, then turned to the task of reloading their weapons. "Are you **sure** you're not a Terminator? You took a lot of hits back there."

Chance still didn't know what a "Terminator" was, exactly, but he was beginning to get an idea. He pulled up his shirt and explained, "Kevlar."

"Oh."

"So," Chance said, "now that you bring it up again, what exactly **is** a 'Terminator'?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"That's what your mother said after she stopped trying to kill me," he said dryly. "We didn't exactly get off on the right foot."

"Yeah," John snorted, "I'll bet." After a moment, he sighed and explained, "A Terminator's a robot assassin, basically. The kind I thought you were is a cyborg, living tissue over a robotic endoskeleton. A while ago, one was reprogrammed to protect me, and it looked and sounded almost exactly like you." John left out the time travel. The T-800 technology was plausible - barely - now, but if he started talking about the T-1000 or the incident back in 1984...

Yeah, that wouldn't go over too well.

Chance considered that. Well, he'd seen weirder things. From outer space at that.

"Bulletproof?"

"Pistols are pretty useless, but a twelve-gauge slug will slow one down, and as I understand it, contact explosives are pretty effective."

Chance nodded thoughtfully. That explained why John was asking for heavier firepower than the AR-15. Cyrez's EM-1s would probably put one down, though, if contact explosives were effective. He filed that thought away.

* * *

Xander cruised through the streets of San Francisco, glad that the first interview had gone so well. He idly wondered how many other survivors of Class 201 he would be able to recruit; they were just the sort of operators he was looking for. Now, though, he was on his way to the second meeting, and from Cortana's brief, this was going to be a bit more interesting.

He turned down a side road, before pulling into the beach house's driveway. _Nice house,_ he thought as he climbed out of the car. Walking up, he knocked politely and waited for the occupant to answer.

"Michael Knight?" he said. "My name is Alexander Beacon. I believe my assistant, Cortana, spoke with you earlier?"

* * *

"...but wooden stakes are pretty much the best choice when it comes to vampires," Buffy concluded. "They're easy to use, effective, and concealable."

"What about demons?" Prue asked.

Buffy smirked. "You'd be amazed how many things will die when you shove a wooden stake through its heart. And if that doesn't work, silver's a good second option, preferably a sword or axe so you can decapitate it too. I prefer swords, but Xander likes axes."

"So..." Phoebe segued, "what can you tell me about Xander?"

"He's Xander," Willow said with a shrug, as if that said everything. Which, for her, it did.

"He's brave," Tara said, then added, "and stupid."

"Hear hear," Buffy agreed.

"Not what I was asking," Phoebe said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

The three Sunnydale girls looked at her in confusion for a moment, until Buffy recoiled. "Oh, ew! I thought we left Faith in Sunnydale!"

* * *

"Achoo!"

"Are you all right?" Giles asked, looking up with concern.

"I'm fine, G," Faith replied, waving it off. "Except I get the feeling I'm missing some seriously wicked fun up in Frisco."

"San Francisco isn't that great," Cordelia sniffed. "They let too many loonies and deviants out in the streets."

"But that's what makes it **fun!**" Faith countered. "A little bit of dancing, a little excitement, maybe a little **action**... of both kinds, if you know what I mean."

"You're disgusting."

"Says the girl in the fetish gear."

"Why you-!"

Giles sighed and rubbed his temples. _Xander,_ he promised, _I **will** find some means of acquiring suitable recompense for this._

* * *

When she heard the car pull up, Sarah Connor picked up her shotgun and crept out the back way, looping around the house. The cabin was isolated, and there was no reason for anyone to come here... unless they somehow knew she was here. The cabin was a safehouse she had established, another place to run if... if something happened.

If they were wrong. If Skynet was still coming.

Curious. Whoever was in the car had not exited it. The engine was still running, and she was sure the car doors had remained shut. The car was probably bulletproof.

No matter. She had depleted uranium slugs. She had burned a lot of favors to get her hands on them, but if anything short of high explosives could stop a Terminator, it would be these, and bulletproof glass would barely slow them down.

She crept around the car until she was right by the driver's side door, then popped up and held the shotgun at the ready, aiming at the driver at point blank range.

The man's hands remained on the steering wheel, but his thumb moved and lowered the window with a control on the wheel.

"I'm not here to fight, Miss Connor," he said. "I'm not even here to arrest you. If I were, I'd have brought a SWAT team."

"Who are you?"

"Special Agent Richard Fox, NSA," he answered. "And I know who's after you and your son."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Lots of people here who have changed their names.


	4. Chapter 3

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (3/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

Michael Knight didn't quite know what to make of Alexander Beacon. It was quite apparent, for example, that his "assistant" had neglected to mention KITT to him. So far, they had spoken of Michael's official past, including the few declassified parts of his service with FLAG, and Alexander's need for an "investigative specialist with an open mind," whatever **that** meant.

"So, I guess my question is," Michael said, "who are you really?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is," Michael clarified, "your assistant back-traced me after she got caught creating your identity. So who are you really?"

Xander steepled his hands in front of his face as he considered how to answer that. Finally, he leaned back and asked, "What's in a name, Michael Long?"

Michael froze at that. "Now where did you hear that name?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild.

"Cortana's the best at what she does," Xander replied evenly, "so I am **very** well informed." He paused for a moment, then, with a wry smile, he added, "At least on things she bothers to tell me about, anyway."

Michael grinned involuntarily at that. He could relate to that. Before he could press the matter, though, he heard the rumble of a car engine pulling into his driveway outside.

"So, Michael," Xander said, "are you expecting any other guests today?"

"No," Michael said, "I'm not." Both of them rose to their feet, and Michael headed for the front door, his guest three steps behind him. The doorbell rang, and Michael opened the door, revealing a large man and a teenaged boy.

"Hello, Michael," the man greeted him.

"Dutch?" Michael returned the greeting, shocked. He shook his head, remembering his old friend's name change. "Sorry, John. What are you doing here?"

"Actually, it's Christopher Chance now. I'm working freelance again." He clamped a hand on the teenager's shoulder and said, "This is my client, and my safehouse has been compromised."

"And so you decided to lead them **here? !**" Michael goggled.

"Don't worry. I made sure I lost them," Chance assured him. "They'd practically need magic to track us here."

"That's what you said about the safe house," the thirteen-year-old pointed out.

Xander cocked an eyebrow. "So, what are we up against?" he asked mildly, stepping up next to Michael.

Chance frowned. "Who are you?"

"Call me Xander. I'm here interviewing Michael for a job." He paused, then added, "And it occurs to me, this is exactly the sort of thing that caught our attention, a lone crusader in a dangerous world, making a difference."

Michael shot him a dirty look.

* * *

"Hey, kid," Xander said quietly, taking a seat near John, who was going through the arsenal Chance had brought with them.

"Don't call me 'kid,'" John shot back. "You can't be that much older than me."

"I'm older than I look," Xander replied. "You're John Connor, aren't you?"

John stopped for a moment in his reassembly of the .45 Long Slide, then continued on. After another long moment, he asked, "So what if I am?"

Xander shrugged. "So nothing. I did a lot of research on how you and your mother blew up Cyberdyne when I had to blow up my high school next year."

John paused again as he processed that. He looked up.

"Time travel?"

"Kinda."

"I hate time travel."

"Me too, kid," Xander said with a nod. "Me too." Shaking his head, he walked over to where Chance and Michael were discussing their next move. "By the way, Chance... do you have a brother?"

The big man tensed up, just enough of a reaction to confirm Xander's suspicions. He smirked. "Thought so. Lemme guess, name of Tasker, lives in DC?"

Chance's expression melted into genuine confusion as he shook his head. "No."

"Huh," Xander muttered. "That's weird. You look almost identical." He shook his head. "Never mind. What's our next move? I'm pretty sure I can scare up some additional assets if we need them."

"You?" Chance snorted. "What are you even doing here, kid? You've got no stake in this."

"Someone's gunning for a thirteen-year-old boy," Xander said flatly. "What makes you think I'd turn my back on that? Where's his mother, anyway?"

"Don't know," Chance said with a shrug. "She contacted me by phone. She's in the area, and the same goons are after her, but that's all I know for sure."

"Right," Xander said. He pulled out his phone. "Cortana, get Dwayne on the line." Pause. "Dwayne, it's me. Looks like you're getting an early start." Pause. "Protection detail, a woman named Sarah Connor. Cortana can give you the details. Track her down, keep her safe." Pause. "No, she won't be expecting you. In fact, she'll probably take a couple of potshots at you." Pause. "No, I'm **not** kidding." Pause. "And that's why I hired you. I'll keep in touch."

* * *

"Well?"

"Patience, Mister Crane," the old man said. "My boys will find them, and when they do..."

"When they do, your boys will have reinforcements," Crane interrupted. "I've brought in some extra muscle."

"Fair enough."

* * *

"You're really popular today, Michael," Xander commented, his fingers parting the venetian blinds so he could see through the window. "Black van across the street, tinted windows. Could they **be** more obvious?"

"Do you **want** competent bad guys?" Chance asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," Xander shrugged, "it might not feel so insulting if they knew what they were doing."

"Could be a decoy," John mused.

The four people paused a moment to consider that, and the silence that followed was broken by a faint click from the back of the house.

"How come it's the kid who figured it out?" Xander complained.

"You're not exactly an old-timer yourself," Michael snorted.

"At least I have a valid driver's license." Which, technically, he did. The fact that the license in question was issued to the entirely fictional Alexander Beacon was beside the point. "We should move. Now."

They burst into motion even as the door was kicked open. A flash-bang flew into the room, and Chance scooped it up and hurled it back. "Let's go!"

The flash-bang detonated just outside, stunning the gunmen, and Chance barrelled through, knocking them both over, the other three quickly following after. Michael paused by a control panel in the wall, innocuous and resembling nothing so much as a standard home security control panel, opening it and extracting a wafer-thin component and slipping it into his pocket, passing John as the boy paused to scoop up one of the gunmen's MP5s, cradling it in his arms like a professional.

There was something seriously wrong with that.

They split off, each of them instinctively making for their own car (or, in John's case, the car he arrived in). There was a thunderous roar just as Michael reached his lovingly-restored sky blue 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air. The car rocked in front of him, a fist-sized hole sprouting in the side as a high-caliber anti-materiel round bored through the engine block. He looked over and saw the sniper, the rifle resting on a bipod on the roof of a car.

John raised the MP5 and returned fire. The bullets arced low, catching two of the gunmen in the legs and stitching across the door panels of the car the sniper stood behind. The rifle bucked and roared again. The second round smashed through the bullet resistant armor of Chance's truck, plowing through the rear axle.

"Get in!" Xander called, yanking Chance and John and shoving them toward the open door of his Banshee. Michael jumped and ducked as gunfire from the backyard riddled his Bel-Air with holes, then pulled open the passenger door of the Banshee and climbed in, just as Xander slid into the driver's seat, John and Chance safely in the back.

Time seemed to slow in the next few seconds as Michael saw the muzzle of the anti-materiel rifle flare again, this time aimed straight at Xander. With their attention riveted on the anti-materiel rifle, no one saw the flicker of green light from Xander's ring. Even before the sound of the gunshot reached them, something whirred and clanked, as armored shutters unfolded across the windshield and windows. The interior of the car lit up with an image display of the outside even as the bullet struck the now-armored windshield, ricocheting harmlessly.

"Okay," Michael admitted, "I'm impressed."

For his part, the car's owner was staring at the dashboard, fighting the urge to break out into giggles. "'Impressed'? Are you kidding me? That was **awesome!**"

He shifted the car into gear and stomped on the gas, swerving around Chance's truck and fish-tailing out of the driveway.

"Cortana," Xander said as they roared down the street, "just what is this car made of?"

"It's encased in a two millimeter layer of molyfused coltan hyperalloy; the armored shutters are made of the same material," a disembodied female voice answered through the car speakers. "I was unable to acquire sufficient quantities of trinium."

Michael's eyebrows quirked. _'Molyfused'?_

John's eyes widened. _'Hyperalloy'?_

Xander paused and considered that. He murmured absent-mindedly, "...that's not Earth-tech, is it?"

Chance's eyes narrowed. _'Earth-tech'?_

"It is now. I filed the patents last week."

"Just how much of this car is actually spec?" Xander prodded.

"Well..." Cortana hedged.

"Is there anything left of the original car here?"

"The interior, frame, and dashboard. Well, most of the dashboard."

Xander groaned. "What else did you do?"

"Reinforced and electrified chassis and body, a high-speed ground-effect configuration, a full sensor and communications suite with virtual reality heads-up display, high-powered electric motors with rocket-assist turbo boost, chameleon skin, remote operation capability, smoke dispensors, run-flat tires, all-around airbags, and power windows and locks."

"We are going to have a **long** talk about this later, Cortana."

* * *

The man named Crane walked through the house and looked around.

"So," he said, "you lost them."

"I'm afraid so, sir," the man who had led the capture team answered. "They were... better prepared than we thought, and their vehicle was... well-protected."

"I see," Crane nodded. "A beach house owned by one Michael Knight," he mused aloud, "where there just **happens** to be an indestructible supercar." He looked around, searching for something out of place... and found it. The security control panel was open, its circuitry exposed.

"Search the house," he ordered, "and tear down this wall. I want every piece of electronic equipment in this building stripped out for Mister Lumic's research before the police get here."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Trouble doesn't find hellmouths. Trouble finds Xander.


	5. Chapter 4

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (4/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

"Did we lose them?" Xander asked, glancing in the rear-view mirrors.

"I think so," Chance said, craning his neck to look around.

"That would make the third time today you thought so," John said dryly.

"Yeah, about that," Xander muttered, "I don't think it's exactly his fault, kid. They might actually **be** using magic to track you. Scrying's not that hard, with the right resources and a smidge of talent."

A chime suddenly rang in the car. Xander looked around, trying to figure out what doohickey was calling for his attention now, even as Michael pulled a cell phone out, much to Xander's surprise. There weren't that many cell phones around yet at this time, though Cortana had ensured he had a couple of his own, including the ones he gave Buffy and Dwayne.

"Hello?" Pause. "Oh, hi, Devon." Pause. "No, I'm not chasing bad guys. I'm retired, remember?" Pause. "No. No, I don't feel a need to amend my statement." Pause. "Yes, I know, that looks bad, but it's hardly my fault some bad guys decided to shoot up my car." Pause. "In all fairness, we're the ones being chased here, I'm a passenger, and they shot fi- I am not arguing semantics!"

"So," Chance said quietly, leaning forward so Xander could hear him better, "what's General Phillips up to lately?"

"Who?" Xander gave him a quizzical look through the rear-view mirror.

Chance frowned. He could have sworn...

After all, who else would have a need to differentiate "Earth-tech" from anything else?

"What's 'molyfused coltan hyperalloy'?" John asked.

"Besides 'the thing that makes this car bulletproof'?" Xander replied. "I haven't the foggiest idea." He paused and pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number from memory. "Hey, Buff? It's me. Can you tell the girls to not wait up? Something's come up, and I might have to crash somewhere else tonight." Pause. "No. No! Nothing like that, I swear!" Pause. "Not that either, Buff. I promise." Pause. "No, I don't need backup." Pause. "All right. Take care. Bye."

Michael smirked as Xander hung up. "Girlfriend?"

"No."

The large man in the back chuckled. "Wife?"

"Do I look that old?"

John shrugged, deciding to go with the other option: "Sister?"

"Not exactly."

John grinned. "Is she cute?"

"Nice try, kid, but she prefers older guys. She'd snap you like a dry twig," Xander replied with a fond smile. "And if you hurt her, I'd have to beat you to death with a shovel."

"Reclaimer," Cortana's voice broke in, "be advised, the SFPD has issued a BOLO on the Banshee."

As if on cue, the wail of a police siren sounded behind them. Xander pursed his lips as he considered the situation. If they pulled over, the SFPD would almost certainly bring them in for questioning, which could cause him problems, but he was sure he could deal with it. The question was how safe John would be.

He stomped the gas.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked, looking over at him.

"Losing them."

"Reclaimer," Cortana interrupted, "a situation has developed in Sunnydale..."

"Crap," Xander swore. "Is the world about to end?"

"No."

Xander sighed. "Well, that's a relief." He frowned as another thought occurred to him. "Is anyone going to die or suffer permanent or severe physical or mental trauma if I don't get right on it?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then it can wait."

Cortana huffed. "...very well, Reclaimer."

* * *

"Well?" the man asked, pacing the hallway of the house which was the registered home of one Alexander Beacon.

"He's... busy," Cortana said distastefully.

The woman chuckled. "A man like him always is."

* * *

It took a lot to scare Michael Knight. It took even more if one limited it to car-related events. Right now, however, Michael was clutching his seat belt in white-knuckled... concern.

"Left! Left!" he called. Xander swerved the car, and Michael was **sure** the Banshee was going to flip, but somehow, it stayed on the road and slewed into the turn. "Who taught you how to drive? !"

"Well, excuse me!" Xander retorted. "They didn't exactly cover high-speed pursuit and combat driving in Driver's Ed!"

"Reclaimer," Cortana broke in, "there **is** another option."

Xander nodded. "That's right. You mentioned remote operation."

"Actually, I lack the specialized pursuit programming that would be suitable. The best candidate is right next to you."

"We're a little too busy to switch seats right now!" Xander snapped as he turbo boosted over a roadblock.

"I wasn't referring to Mister Knight," Cortana replied primly. The glove compartment suddenly opened, and another concealed compartment within unfolded. "If you would please insert KITT's chip. I've taken care to calibrate the interface precisely; it'll be just like slipping back into his old shell."

"Okay," Michael agreed, quickly slotting it in. It had to beat letting Xander drive.

"Well, this is unexpected," KITT's voice emerged. "Engaging Auto-Cruise."

Xander jerked back as the steering wheel took a life of its own. "What the-?" He scowled. "Cortana, we are going to have a **very** long talk about this later."

* * *

"Buffy?" Willow asked. "What's wrong?" They had gone shopping, and the redhead found the blonde Slayer staring slack-jawed at an electronics store display.

"That idiot," Buffy muttered darkly.

Willow blinked and looked at the big screen TV on display, which was showing a live news broadcast of a high-speed car chase. The fleeing red car almost looked familiar, actually. In fact... "Isn't that **Xander's** car?" she hissed.

"He said it wasn't a demon thing," Buffy growled. "He said it wasn't an alien thing. I can't believe this! I should have known he'd find some other way to get into trouble."

"I'll get Tara," Willow said, wearing her Resolve Face. "Her cousins have been showing her how to do a locator spell."

* * *

"They're going to find us, you know," Xander said calmly. With KITT at the helm, they had easily managed to evade the SFPD and were now at a deserted highway rest area just outside the city.

"How?" Chance asked. "What was that nonsense about magic?"

Xander shrugged. "Not nonsense, Mister Chance. Magic is very real. They **could** have hijacked an NRO bird, but that's less likely. Scrying's a lot easier if you have any shred of talent and more reliable unless your target's warded."

"So we find out who's after them and take the fight to them," Michael declared.

"I've got Cortana working that angle, and I have someone else looking for John's mother."

"What?" John looked up. "That's a bad idea."

"Why?"

"Mom's pretty paranoid. Without the code phrase, he's gonna get shot."

Xander blinked.

"Code phrase?"

* * *

As the gravel crunched under his tires, the former SEAL wondered just what the heck he was doing. He was working for some kid who looked like he belonged in high school.

All for a chance to hunt demons, like the ones that had slaughtered his platoon.

He'd seen and done a lot that few would believe. It started with BUD/S Class 201... and only got weirder since.

Dwayne stepped out of the car and called out to the cabin. "Sarah Connor?"

He heard a shocked voice behind him: "Kyle?"

He turned. "Sarah Connor? I understand you've got someone after you."

The woman's hands blurred, and Dwayne was already throwing himself over the hood of his car when she fired.

BLAM!

The round grazed his shoulder, and he hissed, "Ow, damn it!"

"You... you're human."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," Dwayne said irritably, "but what the hell did you think I was? It's too damn early for vampires, and I know I'm not ugly enough to be mistaken for a demon."

He got no answer. He risked a peek. The woman was gone.

_Great._

At that moment, he heard the cell phone Beacon had provided him start ringing. He pulled it out and accepted the call. "Yeah?" Pause. "You couldn't have told me that five minutes ago? !"

* * *

Xander yanked the phone away from his ear, then cautiously brought it back to his face. "Listen, just find her, okay? I'll keep in touch." Shaking his head, he hung up and looked at John and Chance, frowning.

"They know what you two are wearing; we need to change that," he declared. He looked Chance up and down and asked, "What would you say to Hawaiian print, big man?"

"I'd say I'll shoot you and that we're supposed to blend in, not stand out," Chance growled.

"Dude, this is San Fran," Xander pointed out. "If you're **not** standing out, you're standing out."

* * *

John Connor shifted uneasily in the outfit he was now wearing as they exited the Gap in the mall. His ever-present laptop was now tucked away in the backpack slung off his shoulder. He was wearing black slacks and a light blue polo shirt.

"I look like a dork."

"Stop slouching," Xander said, gently slapping him between the shoulder blades, and John jerked up involuntarily. "**Now** you look like a dork. Which, you might recall, is the point."

"Buck up, kiddo," Chance said. "If I can put up with this, so can you." The big bodyguard was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and khaki shorts. A straw hat and sunglasses completed the look. The bulge of his shoulder holster positively vanished in the clashing riot of colors that adorned his new shirt.

"Perfect," Xander grinned. "No one's gonna recognize you two now."

"Hey, Xander!"

He turned and goggled. "Paige? !"

"What's up?" she said. "You know, I almost thought I'd never see you again after that night."

He blinked. "'Almost'?"

"Well," she said with a shrug, "you haven't gotten into my pants yet."

"Paige!"

She giggled. "So who are these guys?"

"Friends of mine," he said, flustered. "N-never mind that. What are you **doing** here?"

"Uhh... shopping," she answered slowly. "This **is** a mall, after all."

Xander worked his jaw wordlessly. Had it been anyone else - anyone! - he probably wouldn't have been caught so off-guard. Buffy, Tara, Willow... he practically accepted as a matter of course that they'd find out he was getting in deep and then track him down. Heck, crossing paths with the Charmed Ones, loaded with destiny and suspicious of him (well, in Piper's case, anyway), was actually pretty likely, due to what he privately referred to as Destiny's First Law of Inverse Probability.

But Paige wasn't even on his radar. Until one of the Charmed Ones died, she had no more destiny than **he** did.

"This... really isn't a good time, Paige," he said finally. "I'm... a little out of sorts right now."

"I can tell," she said dryly. "What's going on?"

"Paige," Xander said calmly, "we had a few drinks. I think it's safe to say our relationship hasn't progressed to the point where I have to explain every-"

Smack!

Xander rubbed the back of his head and muttered, "...I stand corrected."

Behind him, John coughed, "Whipped."

Paige glared at him. John kept any further commentary to himself.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Poor Xander.


	6. Chapter 5

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (5/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

Hans Gruenshtahler peered through the telescope hidden in the station wagon his brother was driving.

"They've changed clothing," he reported.

In the much more elaborately equipped observation van two blocks over, the old man frowned. That could interfere with their tracking... but no, they still had the trace. Crane was observing from behind him.

Sarah Connor had managed to completely evade them for now, so they were focusing on her son instead. He probably didn't know anything they really wanted, but he would be a useful bargaining chip as well as bait.

Plus, from what they had found at the beach house, Crane suspected the people accompanying the boy might have what they were looking for.

"They're away from their car. We should be able to intercept before they return to it."

"Understood."

"Be careful," Crane said. "From what we found at the last location, there's probably more to that car than meets the eye."

* * *

"You're not serious," Paige stared at Xander, who refused to meet her gaze. "You **are** serious." Xander winced. "Didn't you tell me you were just in town for the weekend?"

"Yeah," Xander nodded.

"Great," she said. "What is it with me and bad boys?"

"Hey!" Xander's head snapped up, and he glared at her, offended.

"Okay," she said, rolling her eys, "dangerous guys."

Xander opened his mouth to object, thought better of it, and closed his mouth. He had to admit, she had a point. Finally, he sighed and said, "Go home, Paige. This has nothing to do with you, so unless you want to end up like Goldie Hawn in Bird on a Wire, just... go home."

"Does that make you Mel Gibson?" she asked teasingly.

"No," Xander said. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at John and said, "That'd be him."

"Him? He looks like Leave it to Beaver's evil brother."

"Hey!"

Xander shrugged and pointed out, "Well, he **is** the one the bad guys are after."

"Look, we need to get going," Michael said, rising to his feet from the mall bench he had been sitting on. The others followed suit, but Xander and Paige lagged behind as he continued trying to convince her to go home.

Michael, John, and Chance were halfway across the driving lanes in the parking lot, with Paige and Xander just about to step off the sidewalk, when two things happened.

First, Frederick Gruenshtahler fired an RPG-7 low across the parking lot, striking the cherry red Banshee that now housed KITT's AI. Second, a pair of black panel vans raced up and squealed to a halt just behind the trio leading the group, between them and the pair lagging behind, and began disgorging black-clad operators armed with tasers, submachine guns, and shotguns.

Dangerous lifestyles led to excellent reflexes.

"KITT!" Michael called out reflexively, his first instinct being concern for his partner. John, on the other hand, dove for cover, while Chance pulled out a pistol from his shoulder holster and began tracking targets.

Paige froze and was nearly pulled off her feet as Xander yanked her arm and led her into a run around the mall.

"OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod," she sputtered. "You weren't kidding!"

"I **told** you I was serious," he snapped as they rounded the corner. He peered back around and saw a quartet of gunmen heading their direction, and none of these were armed with tasers.

They wanted John Connor alive. Anyone else was collateral damage.

Xander looked over to the others and shouted, "Move it, KITT! Get them out of here! We'll meet up with you later!"

He ducked his head back as bullets peppered the corner of the building.

"**Now** what?" Paige demanded.

He looked at her. "Do you trust me?"

* * *

The Banshee's wheels squealed as it accelerated and interposed itself between the mercenaries and their prey. Its doors popped open automatically, and Michael climbed into the driver's seat. Chance kept one hand firing over the car as he bodily picked up John with the other, tossing his charge into the back seat before ducking into the passenger seat. He leaned over and yanked the taser barbs from the teenager's arm as the car raced out of the parking lot, bullets splattering harmlessly across its armored shutters and body.

From atop the mall, Xander kept track of the situation, glad the others had made it out okay and wondering, not for the first time, just what his stake in this was.

Well, a really tricked out car, now, he supposed. Still, he felt certain that John was safe with Michael and KITT. The files he'd read on Michael's activities with FLAG were impressive, and Chance seemed quite a capable bodyguard.

He looked at Paige, who was staring wide-eyed and pointing at him. Or, more precisely, his uniform, which he had reflexively changed into when he had used his ring to fly them up here.

"You're... you're... you..." she sputtered.

"This... wasn't how I wanted this to go," he admitted.

"You're Green Lantern!"

She then looked him up and down, taking in his spandex-like uniform, and when she looked up again, he felt like a mouse that had suddenly been spied by a cat.

"Not bad," she said. "Still a bit scrawny, though."

"Hey!"

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oh, real mature," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

* * *

The '67 Impala slewed around the corner ten miles per hour over the speed limit as Tara followed the green indicator floating above her ring. Buffy and Willow clutched whatever was handy and hung on for dear life.

_And Xander thinks **I** drive like a maniac?_ Buffy thought, deeply offended.

Buffy caught sight of Xander walking down the street with the brunette she had seen the other night. Tara obviously noticed him too, as she swerved toward them, stopping next to them.

Xander turned.

"Oh, hi, ladies," he greeted them as the trio of girls climbed out. "I was wondering when-"

Slap!

Xander blinked at Tara.

Paige looked back and forth between Xander and Tara. "Oh, my God. You're already dating someone?"

"Hey!" Xander protested. "It's not like that! We're just friends!"

Tara tried to slap him again, but Xander caught it this time.

"You, little minx, need to stop that," he warned. He was glad she was getting more assertive, but this was going too far. At least until he found out **what** she was hitting him for.

"You still owe me a date," she huffed, fed up with him. She was **not** going to mention abandoned she'd felt when her mother was in the hospital.

He blinked. "I do?"

"Sadie Hawkins?"

He opened his mouth to protest, closed it, then frowned. "Huh. I'd actually forgotten about that, what with the whole... you know."

Paige frowned, but before she could say anything, Buffy and Willow had circled the car, and Xander found himself with an armful of babbling redhead, with a blonde Slayer glaring at him menacingly.

"All right," he grumbled, "what'd I do this time? I'm sure I didn't do anything that-"

"The car chase," Buffy interrupted.

"Oh." Xander winced. "You saw that, huh?"

"**You**, mister," Willow said, poking him in the chest, "have some serious explaining to do."

"Xander," Buffy asked, looking around and frowning, "where's your car?"

"That would have a great deal to do with why I wasn't the one driving during that car chase you saw," Xander answered, straight-faced. He knew he was going to pay for the misdirection, but he just couldn't resist.

* * *

The other escapees were traveling sedately through the outskirts of town with a subdued silence. Finally, one of them broke the silence.

"KITT."

"Yes, Michael?"

"This, uh, shell. Did Doctor Graiman build it?"

KITT hesitated. Finally, the AI answered, "I don't believe so, Michael. Much of the technology is different, and the neural network architecture is significantly more advanced and physically compact."

Michael stewed over that. The idea that someone else had that level of technology was... unsettling. He still remembered KARR.

"Am I the only one freaked out by the fact that we're in a talking car?" John asked.

"Hey," Michael snapped. "KITT's my partner. He's a good guy."

"It's a **machine**," John hissed. "An **AI**."

"So?"

John simmered and sat back. "You wouldn't understand." KITT, he privately admitted, seemed to be okay, but the mere existence of neural net technology...

It had been Uncle Bob's final lesson.

"Where we headed, good buddy?" Michael asked.

"There is a former FLAG safehouse in the city that should still be usable," KITT answered, "but first, we need to identify how they are tracking us. Sensors detected a brief, unauthorized pulse transmission from the rear of the passenger cabin."

The two men looked back at the boy in the back seat.

"What?" he looked between them. "I changed all my clothes, and I even dropped my laptop when they nailed us at the mall."

"Your shoes," Chance said. "Did you change your **shoes?**"

John's curses answered that question as he tore his shoes off and threw them out of the window.

* * *

Gravel crunched under the rental Impala's tires as Xander pulled into the unpaved parking space in front of the house. The house itself was fairly nondescript, but metal shutters and the distinct lack of trees and ornaments in the yard which provided clear fields of fire set off alarms in his head.

He stepped out of the car as Michael Knight cracked the door open.

"How'd you find us?" the former crusader asked.

"Even without your friend in it, Michael, that car is worth a hell of a lot of money," Xander pointed out. "Of **course** I LoJacked it." Well, actually, Cortana had, seeing as how Xander hadn't even learned of its existence until just before this trip.

Michael had the good grace to look ashamed at overlooking the obvious.

"Who are your friends?" he asked, eyes darting to the car.

"Friends," Xander confirmed with a nod. He raised his voice and added, "Friends who really should have gone back to the hotel like I said."

Michael hid his amusement as, to a one, they gave him defiant looks in return. Still...

"This isn't exactly the sort of situation to be bringing in a bunch of teenaged girls."

"Try telling them that," Xander said dryly.

Michael looked at them. Their ire then turned on him, and his words died on his lips. After a moment, he coughed, cleared his throat, and offered, "Um, welcome aboard?"

Xander smiled serenely. Michael resisted the urge to punch him.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Too many characters here, but I can't justify leaving any of them out.


	7. Chapter 6

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (6/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking, bringing your girlfriends here?" Chance growled, glaring at the dark-haired young man. He didn't like this. Ever since Val Verde, he found himself working alone more often than not, and he had gotten **good** at it. A team like the one he had lost down there needed **years** of experience working together, and he'd never been able to recreate the seeming magic they'd had together.

He blinked as he suddenly found himself suspended in the air. He stared at where the short blonde girl's hand wrapped around the front of his shirt.

"Okay, seriously?" Buffy said. "Shut up. We know what we're doing."

Sitting in front of the safehouse's computer, John stared and muttered, "I think I'm in love."

"Out of the way," Willow growled, pushing her way into the room and then pushing John out of his chair. By the time he was back on his feet and ready to complain, she had already dumped his interface shell and had brought up a new one, her fingers flying over the keyboard faster than he could track.

"Got it!" she crowed victoriously as she finally brought up a window showing a bird's eye view of the compound.

He let out a low whistle. "NRO bird?"

She shook her head. "Russian spy sat."

John blinked and barely kept his jaw off of the floor as he stood, looking over her shoulder.

Willow tapped a few more commands and the screen split. "**That** is the NRO bird. The FSB likes to keep an eye on the hellmouth, so their down-looking satellites are better equipped for our purposes."

"Can I have you?" John murmured. Willow flushed.

Xander froze. "Wait, back up, Will. The FSB keeps a satellite on Sunnydale?"

She looked at him and blinked. "Um, yeah. I thought you knew?"

Xander swore under his breath.

"Or maybe you didn't."

"It's not the FSB I'm worried about," he said. "It's the OSA."

"Um... what's the OSA?" Buffy asked.

"Secret division of the FSB," Xander answered. "Don't ask me what it stands for, something Russian, but they're basically the KGB under a new name. Russian spies and assassins, very dangerous. I met with their liaison in Scotland before heading to Africa. And now I find out they've been watching us." He shook his head. "Forget that for now. We need to focus on the goons after the kid."

"Hey!"

Buffy looked at John. "So, why would anyone be after you?"

John snorted, held out his hand, and deadpanned, "Hi. I'm John Connor. I save the world."

The Slayer blinked, then smiled and patted him on the head. "That's cute."

John growled and slapped her hand away. The others present studiously ignored the sounds that came next, but it sounded like John was in a headlock and getting a noogie.

Xander chuckled and looked at the others, only to lose his smile as Paige cocked an eyebrow at him, hands on her hips. "So," she asked, "what now?"

He blinked.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Buffy," Willow said, "while I'm sure you have very good reasons, can you please stop your very odd mating ritual with John for a second to help us figure out our next move?"

Buffy and John blushed and instantly sprang apart.

Xander shook his head in mock disappointment. "Buff, I'm glad you're over your obsession with much older guys, but do you really think going to the other extreme is really the right decision?"

Thwap!

"Hey!" Xander protested, looking at Paige and rubbing his head. "What was that for?"

"That was uncalled for," she said, glaring at him, arms crossed.

Xander held her gaze for about ten seconds before ducking his head in reluctant apology. "Yes, dear," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Meanwhile, Chance looked over at Michael. "And you're thinking of working for this guy?"

"Don't remind me," the former crusader muttered, shaking his head.

"Listen," Chance said, "I've got a few calls to make. There a secure phone here I can use?"

* * *

"Okay, buster," Buffy said, her voice low. She had cornered Xnader in the kitchen and now barred his path. "You two just met last night and had a few drinks. Why are you acting like an old married couple already?"

Xander coughed. "Well, Buff, you remember the, ah, whole future vision thing?"

"Yeah..."

"We, ah, **knew** each other in the last go-round."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Well, I kinda figured that, Xander, but that doesn't explain... oh," her eyes widened, "Oh! You... **knew** each other."

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"Not that long," Xander said with a shrug, looking away. "Six months, off and on - call it eight weeks if you only count the on's - and neither of us died at the end of it, which makes it one of our more successful relationships."

"Does she...?"

"I don't **think** so, but the way she acts sometimes, it's hard to say for sure." He turned to face her again. "She's already picked up that bad habit of hitting me," he added, giving the Slayer a mock scowl.

"She what?" Buffy blurted out, eyes narrowing.

"Knock it off," he snorted. "Melodrama aside, you're the only one who actually hits me hard enough to hurt."

"What?" she squeaked, her eyes wide in horror.

"That's only when you forget your Slayer strength," he added quickly.

"Oh." She had the courtesy to blush. "You're an enabler, you know," she scolded half-heartedly.

He snorted again. "Hey, everyone needs an outlet, Buff. Last time around, Willow ended up flaying a man alive and nearly blowing up the planet. You should see her when she's on a Mistress of Pain kick."

"What?" Buffy goggled at him.

"Yeah," he said. "All goth-y and black leather... yum."

"I thought you didn't think of her like that?" she asked, frowning.

"Just because I don't feel that way doesn't mean I can't appreciate the view," he retorted, offering her an exaggerated leer.

She scowled. "So, Paige... how do you feel about her?"

"Why do you ask, Buff?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows. "Jealous?"

"Mayyybe," she said, offering an impish grin while cocking her hips suggestively.

Xander's smile faded. "She's one of my girls, Buff. That's all you need to know."

There was a long pause as Buffy considered his words.

"That still sounds so chauvinistic," she said finally with a wry smile, deciding to ignore the deeper thoughts. It was safer that way.

He shrugged.

"Okay," Buffy said. "Next question. Why aren't you using your ring?"

"Actually, I already have," Xander said. "But frankly, I don't really need to, and I'd really rather avoid it if lives aren't on the line. This is San Francisco, not Sunnydale, Buffy. People here would actually **notice**, and I'm not exactly eager to reveal the whole Green Lantern thing to the public yet. Besides, I can't rely on the ring all the time; it's a tool, not a crutch."

Suddenly, they froze as the telephone rang, then bolted for the living room, where they found Christopher Chance talking on the phone.

"Thanks," Chance said, hanging up. He looked around. "That was one of my contacts working the other angle. The man who hired the twins is a man named Crane, personal assistant to John Lumic, head of Cybus Industries."

"Goddamn Cybermen," Xander muttered. The others stared.

"Don't mind him," Buffy said. "He does that a lot."

"I've heard of Cybus Industries," Michael mused aloud. At the questioning looks, he elaborated, "KITT and I like to keep track on the electronics industry. They bought out Cyberdyne Systems when they filed for bankruptcy after their Los Angeles research branch was destroyed."

"Is that phone secure?" Xander asked.

"Yeah," Michael said, "it is."

"Good," Xander said, pondering the next move. He pulled out his cell phone. "Dwayne? It's me." Pause. "What about?" Pause. "I warned you about that, Dwayne. Are you okay?" Pause. "She's not crazy." Pause. "Okay, maybe she **is** a little crazy. Then again, maybe not, considering what we know's out there. Listen, are you secure?" Pause. "Well, sit tight. We'll be dropping her son off with you soon before we go take care of our problem. Oh, and Dwayne? Get that looked at." He yanked the phone away from his ear as Dwayne responded loud enough for everyone to hear.

He closed the cell phone and looked at John. "Hey, kid, any particular reason your mom would accuse one of my guys of being someone who died before you were born?"

John blinked. "What."

* * *

The room was tense. The three people in it were all armed, and no two of them trusted each other: a wanted terrorist, a former SEAL, and an NSA agent on his second lease on life.

"We've got company," Richard Fox said.

Commander Dwayne Anderson, formerly of the United States Navy SEALs, cocked his head. Straining senses honed through some of the harshest training and years of special operations experience, he could barely hear the car approaching.

"How the hell did you hear that?"

Fox smirked. "I've got good ears. That your boss you were expecting?"

"Probably."

For her part, Sarah Connor's eyes kept flipping between her two supposed protectors. Anderson's resemblance to Kyle was disturbing, and every instinct screamed at her that he couldn't be real. Still, he didn't act like a Terminator; he didn't even seem to know who Kyle was, and any Terminator modeled on him and sent after her would almost certainly pretend some link to the man. As for the NSA agent... well, she **was** a wanted terrorist, as far as the U.S. government was concerned.

Moments later, two cars pulled up outside.

"John!" Sarah cried out, rushing to her son and checking him over. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mom," he said, squirming away.

"Come here," she said, reaching out to hug him.

He pulled away, remembering the trick she'd pulled back when he and Uncle Bob had broken her out of Pescadero. "I **said** I'm fine."

A hand pressed against his back, pushing him toward her. "She's your mom, kid," Xander said. "It's her job to worry."

Sarah enveloped her son a hug, patting him for injuries as she looked suspiciously at Xander, gently pulling John away from him and toward Chance. "Who is this guy, Chance?"

"My name's Alexander Beacon," Xander said, extending his hand to shake. "You could say we're in the same business."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You're a terrorist?"

"No," he said, shaking his head and dropping his hand back to his side. "I save the world."

There was a long, pregnant pause as Sarah stared at him incredulously.

"Though I tend to do it in a manner that doesn't involve being put on the FBI's most wanted list," he added. "That's a personal thing, though. If that's how you like working..."

"Shut up, kid," Chance muttered. His gaze shifted to the other two people emerging from the building, and his eyes widened. "Steve?"

Richard Fox met his gaze, equally surprised. "Dutch? I heard you were dead."

"I could say the same."

Fox's eyes flicked over to their suddenly avid audience. "I think it's best we table that discussion for later."

* * *

"So, we got a plan?" Xander asked, looking around.

"I thought you were the one with all the plans, kid," Michael said, arms crossed.

Xander scowled.

"If you can get me the data linking Lumic to this, I can shut him down," Fox said, "at least here in the States. I can bring his men in or at least revoke their visas and deport them."

"What exactly is your stake in this, superspy?" Dwayne asked.

"Lumic," the NSA agent said. "We've been tracing some advanced technology that turned up in a few nations on Uncle Sam's naughty list, including several items from top secret programs in the Pentagon. Most signs point to Cybus, but we haven't been able to get anything conclusive."

"Even if you get them for this, that won't stop them from smuggling that kind of technology," Michael pointed out. "We don't have anything to tie them to espionage."

"True," Fox nodded, "but it'll suspend their DOD contracts until the investigation's finished, permanently if we can convict. That'll close up the leaks and cut off some of their funding - at least for a while - and restrict their overt actions in the future. At this point, I'll take what I can get."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Like I said, not my best work.

Oh, and for the record, no, the OSA listed here isn't real, as far as I can tell, just a background element from one of the (many) crossovers.


	8. Chapter 7

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (7/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at .net/u/62966 or .net/~cyclone

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

"So," Chance said, "I've got my pistol and the AR-15. What's everyone else bringing?"

Fox pulled his jacket aside to reveal the automatic pistol resting in his shoulder holster. Sarah Connor racked the pump on a ten-gauge, while her son checked a .38 revolver's cylinder. Anderson patted his own pistol.

The shorter blonde girl, Buffy, twirled a sword, while Willow held up an axe. Paige, Tara, and Xander looked at each other, then shrugged, hands empty.

He stared. "So let me get this straight. Me, the kid, his mom, and the SEAL and NSA agent over there are the only ones going to be armed? That's insane."

"Oh, we're armed," Xander assured him. "We just don't like guns."

"Laughter and good wishes don't count as being armed," Sarah told them with a snort.

"He said we were armed," Tara growled at the woman.

"Cool your jets, Tara," Xander said. "Now isn't the time for a demonstration. Besides, if all goes according to plan, we won't need weapons."

She glared at him.

"As I said," Xander assured Chance again, "even if we don't choose to use guns, we are well-equipped to handle ourselves. We're all armed here, in our own ways."

"I'm not," Willow chirped.

"Yeah, but you're staying here and coordinating," Xander pointed out.

"Well, I'm not armed either," Paige said.

Xander paused. "Why **are** you here?"

"Oh, please," she said, arms crossed. "You drop the secret you did on me, and you expect me to leave?"

"I had kinda hoped..."

"Not happening, buster."

"Fine," he sighed. "Oh, and Buffy?"

"What?"

"No maiming."

"Aww," the Slayer pouted.

"You hang around with some strange girls," John said, shaking his head. Buffy and Paige both smacked him.

"**All** women are strange, kid," Xander said with a shrug and received a couple of playful punches for his trouble.

Michael, Anderson, and Fox all wisely kept their own counsel as Sarah loaded another weapon.

Chance simply snorted. After seven-foot-tall big game hunters from outer space, few things bothered him anymore. "Let's move."

* * *

John Lumic, as it turned out, was in San Francisco. He was meeting with one of his business partners, Sentronics, a defense contractor who relied on Cybus for much of the electronic control systems for their weapon systems. Sentronics also happened to be on Fox's suspect list. Any evidence they could gather on them would be icing on the cake as far as he was concerned.

Lumic was staying in a secured penthouse suite, which occupied the entire top floor of the hotel and boasted some of the most advanced security measures available. The windows were bullet-resistant, designed to stop sniper rounds, and the elevator required a keycard swipe to even go to the penthouse floor.

Jumping the cleaning crew had been the easy part. Staying in-character was the hard part.

"I hate heights," Chance grumbled, his hand white-knuckled on the railing of the window-washers' platform.

"Just don't puke, or we'll have to do the rest of the windows."

Chance looked at the kid, who was doing a fairly good job on the windows. "You **do** realize that this is just a cover, right?"

"No reason not to do a good job," Xander told him, pausing to check his watch.

* * *

Paige swiped the appropriated keycard, and Sarah wheeled the cleaning cart into the service elevator. Paige followed a moment later. Both women were dressed in stolen maid's uniforms and not too pleased about it.

The service elevator opened on the penthouse level in a concealed service room that was out of the way and out of sight. Sarah reached into the linen bag on cart and pulled out Chance's AR-15. Given their insertion methods, they had traded weapons.

And they waited.

* * *

Richard and Michael were snappily dressed in suits with earbuds, posing as security as they stepped into the main elevator, swiping a keycard for the penthouse level. They were in the most dangerous position, as the main elevator would deposit them right in the middle of the penthouse.

* * *

In the hotel's surveillance room, Dwayne and John waited and watched while Willow tracked the three groups using the hotel's own security systems. She nodded to herself as she confirmed that everyone was in position. Just as the main elevator carrying Richard and Michael to the penthouse reached the top floor, she spoke quietly into her radio.

"Go."

* * *

BOOM!

John Lumic jumped in surprise as a deer slug from a ten-gauge shotgun punched through the outer window. Over two hundred pounds of muscle smashed the weakened glass as Christopher Chance threw himself through the window, tucking into a roll. Xander Harris dove in after him.

The service room door smashed open, Sarah Connor leading the way with the assault rifle, Paige Matthews a step behind her, as Richard Fox and Michael Knight charged out of the main elevator.

Credit was due to Lumic's bodyguards, who responded and opened fire within a split-second. Bullets smacked harmlessly against the thin energy shield Xander had molded around himself. The others were wearing kevlar, easily enough to stop the 9mm pistols Lumic's bodyguards were using.

Not that Paige's vest had a chance to prove itself. The bullets streaked toward her, and she froze, eyes clenched shut... and vanished in a column of white light as the bullets passed, reappearing a moment later.

No one noticed.

They weren't here to kill anyone, but many of those bodyguards would be spending time in hospitals, and a few would probably walk with a limp for the rest of their lives.

"Who are you?" Lumic demanded. "What do you want?" He blanched as Sarah shoved the barrel of her reclaimed shotgun into his face.

It was true what they said: It **did** look like a train tunnel...

"What I want," she hissed, "is very simple. I want you to understand something. I am, as the news media likes to say, a Luddite terrorist. When I blew up Cyberdyne, it was to **destroy** their technology, not steal it. It's. All. Gone. So leave me and my son alone, or I swear, I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth, and I will not stop - ever! - until you are dead. Comprende?"

Lumic swallowed hard and nodded. Then a thought occurred to him. _She doesn't know about the arm._

Shortly after Cyberdyne's research lab had been destroyed, clean-up crews at the steel mill had discovered the crushed remnants of a skeletal metal arm. It had been quietly reclaimed by Cyberdyne Systems before they went under, and Cybus Industries had then acquired it as part of the buyout. There wasn't much salvageable from the crushed arm - and even less that they could comprehend - but what they could extract from its circuitry allowed them to snake several key contracts out from under Knight Industries.

It was a massive relief to Lumic that that secret, at least, was safe.

He was inclined to believe the Connor woman. Having now seen her with his own eyes, he understood what he was dealing. She was a true believer in her cause, and her cause involved halting the progress of mankind. Mentally, he scoffed at the idiocy of it, but there it was.

There was no more violence involved, and as the intruders left, he found himself relaxing.

That is, until the last one to leave, a dark-haired teenager, paused at the door.

"By the way? Cybermen? Bad idea."

With that, Xander turned and left.

* * *

"I still can't believe you had us wait in the car," Buffy grouched.

"Hey," Xander said, "I needed someone in reserve in case things went to hell like they usually do. Who else was I going to trust with that, Buff?"

"Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if the car weren't such a smart-mouthed jerk," she muttered.

Xander frowned and cocked an eyebrow at the Banshee. "KITT?"

"I merely made some observations based on her records regarding motor vehicle operation."

Buffy kicked KITT's side panel.

"Oh. Well, consider yourself lucky you're still in one piece. The last two times she dealt with hardware that talked back, she turned the walking killer robot into scrap."

"Then perhaps it's fortunate that I do not walk," KITT replied dryly.

Buffy kicked KITT again, harder. Then started hopping around, clutching her foot. Molecularly-fused coltan hyperalloy was quite a bit stronger than Buffy's stylish size sevens.

"You do remember the car's bulletproof, right?"

"Shut up, Xander," she growled, glaring at him.

Xander chuckled, turning away and shaking his head, only to see Michael walking up.

"Hey," he said.

"Fox and Chance already left," Michael said. "I think the Connors are looking to lay low for a while."

"They haven't left yet, have they?"

"Not yet, why?"

"Kinda want to talk to them," Xander said. "What about you? Thought about that job offer?"

"Been thinking about it," Michael said. "Still not sure exactly what you want from me, though."

"Not much," he said. He tossed Michael a set of keys. "Just a lone crusader in this dangerous world."

Xander sauntered past Michael to where the Connors were quietly discussing something.

"Hey," he said. "Could I talk to you?"

* * *

"So, Dutch," the man known as Richard Fox said, "how have you been?"

"Surviving," the man known as Christopher Chance answered. "After Val Verde, I went to WitSec for a while, got a new name, then I went freelance, got another new name. What's this about the NSA, Steve? What happened to OSI?"

"Budget cuts," Fox answered distastefully. "Chopped up and fed to just about the entire alphabet soup. CIA, FBI, NSA, everyone got a piece of our field resources, and the NID practically took over our research projects."

Chance frowned. "The NID? Watch your back."

"Always."

* * *

"Just keep my offer in mind," Xander said, turning away from the Connors. He stopped short and blinked. "Uh, Paige. Hi."

"So, what now?" she asked, arms crossed, foot tapping.

"You're asking me?"

Glare.

"Okayyy... so... what exactly did you have in mind?"

Paige grinned.

"This is going to cost me a lot of money, isn't it?"

"We need to talk," she said. "In private."

"Umm..."

"Dinner," she declared. "Tonight."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

I know the wrap-up of the main plot was a bit anti-climactic - they didn't even get a straight out fight with the mercs - but it seemed right to me.

For those who might be interested, a time-traveling character named Cameron will be appearing in the next chapter.


	9. Chapter 8

Title: Emerald Flame: Coast City Getaway (8/8)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Cortana has a suggestion on how Xander spends his suspension.

Author's Note: I suppose it was a matter of time before I broke away from the Emerald title theme. Despite my best efforts, I simply could not figure out a good title for this one that fit the naming theme. Oh, well.

* * *

"What **is** this place?" Paige hissed, looking around warily.

"You said you wanted to talk in private," Xander said with a shrug. "Folks here are... discreet."

"I was expecting something a little more... romantic," she said. "Not some... seedy bar."

"Hey!" he snapped, mock-offended. "This is a diner, not a bar. And I'll have you know, it serves the finest pies on the west coast."

"I'm glad you think so, darlin', but I don't remember seeing your face in here before," the waitress asked. She made a show of eyeing him up. "I'd've remembered a cutie like you."

Xander gave her a dazzling smile and made a show of reading her nametag. "I haven't, actually, Moira. A friend of mine let me try a piece, and I just had to come to the source."

"Well, you've made the right decision," she said. "What'll it be?"

"I'll have the fried chicken, a Caf-Pow, and the pie of the day," Xander said.

"Cheeseburger and a beer," Paige said, glaring at Xander. "Something German. And leave the bottle."

"ID?"

Paige rifled out her wallet and flashed her driver's license.

"And pie," Xander added for her. "Mustn't forget the pie."

"Fine," she said. "And pie."

Moira nodded. "Be about ten minutes," she said before turning and walking away with their order.

"So," Xander said, "what did you want to talk about?"

"Well," she said, "what are you planning on doing? With... you know."

"Remember what I told John's mom?"

It took Paige a moment to recall his words. "'Save the world'?" she asked skeptically.

"'There are more things in heav'n and Earth,'" Xander quoted.

"Can I help?"

"I dunno," Xander said, leaning back. "**Can** you?"

Paige opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

"Don't answer that yet," he said. "Just... think about what you actually want to **do**."

She frowned and slumped down, pondering his question.

Xander watched her as they ate. He knew what her potential was. The power of the Halliwell bloodline coupled with her Whitelighter heritage was a potent combination. Even Willow at her best couldn't match them, not without absorbing a **lot** of external energy.

He could see her turning the question over in her mind. It was clear she wasn't even tasting her food. He supposed he could tell her. It wouldn't be that hard, really. But then again, so far as he knew, she didn't have any bindings on her powers, so why had they manifested so late in the last timeline? Was that all she was upstairs? A backup for the Charmed Ones? **Would** she still get her powers without meddling from on high?

Because there was no way in hell he was going to allow one of the Charmed Ones to die. Even if Phoebe scared the hell out of him with her wandering eyes.

Paige continued to struggle with the question, eating automatically, until the dessert arrived. Scooping up a piece of the pie automatically, she paused.

Xander watched as she seemed to freeze on the first bite. She carefully pulled the spoon out of her mouth - lips sealed around it to get every last crumb and smear of pie off it - and declared solemnly, "This... is the best pie... in the history... of pie."

He smirked. She glared at him. He kept smirking right up until she threw her napkin in his face. He responded by trying to take her pie and nearly got a fork in his hand for his trouble.

"Mine," she growled, putting her arm protectively around her pie plate.

They finished the rest of their meal in silence, then left the diner. It was a clear night, the late November air chilling Xander a bit.

"I guess you're right," Paige broke the silence, her voice despondent. She paused to take another swig from her third - or was it fourth? Xander wasn't sure - bottle. "I mean, I'm still in college, and it's not like I have superpowers."

"Don't be too sure about that," Xander muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she let it pass... for now. "Riiight," she said skeptically.

Xander resisted the urge to start whistling.

Shaking her head, she sighed. "But yeah, I guess you're right. I'm not ready to help with something like this. I just wish-mmph?"

"Don't. **Ever**. Say those words." Xander then jerked his hand away. "And don't lick me like that!"

"There some other way you'd like me to lick you?" she asked, grinning saucily.

Xander blinked, his eyes going distant for a moment. He shook his head. "Stop that!"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Not while I'm winning!"

"Put that away unless you're going to use it," he snapped, then paled. "I walked into that one."

Paige pounced.

Xander's ring glowed.

"Mmmm, kinky. I'm not normally into bondage this heavy, but I'm always willing to try something new."

"Gah! Just how much did you drink?"

* * *

Paige Matthews stirred, clutching her head as sunlight pierced her eyelids. "Ugh," she muttered, curling up into a fetal ball. "I am never going to drink again."

"I've heard **that** before," she heard someone snort, "mostly from my parents."

Paige's eyes snapped open, and she saw Xander sitting on a chair next to the bed. "Oh, God," she said. "Did we...?"

"No," he said, shaking his head as he got up, satisfied that she wasn't going to expire any time soon.

"Why not?"

"Because we hardly know each other, Paige," he answered, entering the bathroom.

"Even after all we've been through together?"

"Relationships based on intense experiences never work," he called from the bathroom over the sound of running water. "Believe me, I would know."

She pouted, then grinned evilly. "Well, then, we could just base it on sex instead."

Wham!

Thud!

"OW!"

* * *

John Connor didn't ask where his mother got the car. Instead, he sat in the back seat with the guns as she drove them out of the city, musing over the offer Mr. Beacon had made.

"I thought I told you to be careful, John," Sarah said, breaking the silence.

"It's been three years," he retorted. "I thought I was safe." His voice dropped. "You said I was safe."

"I was wrong," she admitted. "I know that now. No one is ever safe."

They sat in silence for another long moment.

"Tell me about these people you were with."

"Only if you tell me about the SEAL you shot."

"That was an accident!"

"I know you, Mom. You don't shoot people by accident. **I** don't shoot people by accident, and you taught me everything I know about guns."

Sarah pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"He reminds me of your father," she said finally. "His face, his voice, that same... intensity."

John's eyes widened. "Mom. Could... could he be...?" he trailed off.

"I thought... I thought he was another Terminator," she said, ignoring his question. She paused, then added defensively, "I only winged him."

"Mom," he deadpanned. "You shot a man who might be my grandfather."

"Hush, John."

"Are we going to Sunnydale?"

* * *

Buffy, Tara, and Willow waited outside the hotel while Xander returned the rented Impala.

"Hey, I just realized something," Buffy said.

"What?" Willow asked.

"Well, Xander gave his car to Mister Knight, right?"

Tara nodded. "Yeah..."

"So... how are we gonna get home?"

The three girls looked at each other as it dawned on each of them that neither of the others had the answer. Moments later, however, a beat up canary yellow 1976 Camaro with twin black racing stripes pulled around the corner and squealed to a stop in front of them.

Xander waved from the driver's seat. "Hi, ladies. Since I gave away our ride, I figured I needed a replacement."

They stared.

Finally, Willow broke the silence. "Xander, do you realize how wrong it is for you to be driving a yellow car?"

Xander grinned. "Yeah, but they didn't have one in red or black. Besides, I managed to talk him down from five grand to four, and I'm gonna have fun fixing it up."

"Shotgun!" The fight was on.

* * *

Xander had dropped off Tara and Willow first, then pulled in front of 1630 Revello Drive. He winced when he saw Joyce Summers storming out to the car. Ever since she found out about Buffy's costumed antics, she seemed to have decided to blame him for everything.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, young man," she said sternly.

"For what?"

"Taking my daughter on this... this road trip!"

Xander paused, then turned and glared at Buffy. "You said you got permission!"

"No, I said mom didn't have a problem with it," the Slayer corrected as she climbed out of the car.

"You didn't even tell her!"

"She obviously couldn't have any problem with something she didn't know about," Buffy reasoned.

"And you, young lady, are grounded," Joyce added. "I told you I don't want you spending time around him or Willow anymore, not after that costume stunt."

"No!" Buffy snapped. "You can't dictate my life to me, Mom!"

"Buffy..." Xander said quietly.

"You don't get to choose my friends, especially not over this!"

"**Buffy**..."

"I owe him my **life!** If it weren't for Xander, I'd have **died** last year!"

"Buffy, she's right!" Xander snapped. The Slayer looked at him in shock. He shook his head and elaborated, "The costumes **were** a bad idea, Buff. They still are. Mine's a uniform, part and parcel with the power ring, but this whole Birds of Prey thing... it's making us lose perspective. It could get someone killed."

"But..."

"I'll talk to Willow," he said, pulling out of the driveway.

* * *

Xander sighed as he fished the key from his pocket, then fumbled, dropping the key.

"Damn it," he muttered. He bent over to pick it up, only to be surprised as the door opened from the other side. He looked up. "Setsuna?"

The Senshi of Time nodded. Xander picked up the dropped key and followed her in. "What are you doing here?"

"I was following **him**," she said, pointing at the dark-haired man lounging on the couch.

Xander cocked his head at the stranger. "And you are?"

The man rose to his feet and stood at attention. "Colonel Cameron Mitchell, United States Air Force. I'm from an alternate future."

There was a long pause.

Xander buried his face in his hands. "God, I just can't get a break, can I?"

* * *

Author's Postscript:

And there he is! As promised, a time-traveling character named Cameron.

So, who expected that last scene? Anyone? Anyone?


End file.
